When Alice Met Danny (17 page)

‘Danny, you are the very best dog in the world.’ She blew her nose and stood up. Job done, he returned to his basket. She put the kettle on and set about collecting the letters safely together. She placed them back inside the little suitcase. As she did so, she noticed a corner of yellowish paper, caught in the lining. She tugged at it slowly until she managed to work it free. To her surprise, it was a label, an address label, the glue now long-since dried up. As she held it, she noticed for the first time a lighter patch on the inside of the lid, where the label would once have been stuck. Written on it in neat, though faded, handwriting was:

Daniel E Green

3, Shute End Cottages

Conibere

Devon

Alice let the label fall from her fingers. She looked up in amazement. She now knew who her Danny was. And it wasn’t either of the names on the Conibere war memorial. Did this mean he survived the battle?

She picked up the iPad and searched for the War Graves Commission website. She located the record of the Devonshires that fateful day and scrolled frantically through the names. There was only one Green, his initial was W.
He didn’t die,
she shrieked to herself. And as his name wasn’t on the Conibere memorial, maybe he survived the whole war. She took the kettle from the hob and filled the teapot. As she did so, she heard noises from next door. Derek Tinker must have arrived. She opened the back door and went through the gate to Mrs Tinker’s kitchen door. Danny trotted happily past her and rested his nose against it, tail wagging. She knocked and immediately heard the key turn before the door swung open.

‘Hi, you must be Alice.’ He was a bear of a man, with a bushy black beard. For a moment, she had an image of him wearing a Davy Crockett hat, panning for gold in the wild mountains. All he needed was a checked shirt and an axe to complete the mental picture. His eyes were smiling, even if the rest of his face was almost invisible under the beard.

‘Hello, Derek.’ She held out her hand. He took it and shook it, mercifully gently. She gave him a smile. ‘I’ve just made tea. Would you like a cup?’

There was a moment’s hesitation, then his eyes smiled even more and she found herself smiling back. ‘Alice, do you have any coffee by any chance? I’ve drunk so much tea over the last twenty-four hours, I think my tonsils are floating.’

‘How does a real Italian espresso sound?’

‘Alice, if I wasn’t a happily married man, I’d pick you up and hug you.’ He shot her a glance. ‘What the hell, come here.’ He reached out with his beefy hands, lifted her off the ground and wrapped her into his arms. All the emotion of the past few hours overwhelmed her, and she burst into tears. He held her tightly for a few moments until she was able to regain control. When he set her back down again, she saw his eyes were also filled with tears. She rubbed her hand across her face and searched for a handkerchief.

‘And this handsome creature must be young Danny.’ Hearing his name, the dog walked up to Derek, his tail wagging uncertainly. ‘Hi fellah, you’re as fine a dog as I’ve seen in a long time. Mom said you were a looker. She was damn right.’ He bent down and stroked him, while both of them recovered. Finally, he stood up again.

‘Did you say something about coffee?’

Alice wiped her nose and stuffed the tissue back into her pocket. ‘Sorry about that. Come on, this way.’ The dog led them out and through into the garden of Duck Cottage. Derek stopped by the back door and surveyed the plants.

‘Last time I came over was a few years ago and it was winter. Boy, but it looks good with all the trees in leaf and the flowers open.’ He breathed in deeply. ‘What’s that I can smell?’

‘Look up.’ Alice found that she liked this huge man a lot. Obediently, he raised his eyes to the wisteria that covered most of the back wall. Long bunches of purple blooms hung from the branches. He nodded in appreciation.

‘The snow’s only just about melted now where we live. Wow, that is quite something.’

Alice beckoned him inside. He sat down at the table and the dog positioned himself alongside. Derek ruffled his ears, while Alice busied herself with the espresso machine. She had regained control now and felt able to talk about it.

‘I’m sorry for crying my eyes out. I was really fond of your mum, Derek.’ She filled the machine and set a cup in front of it. ‘I lost my parents a long time ago. I suppose I came to think of her as another mum, really.’

He looked up from the dog, his eyes still smiling. ‘She loved you, too, Alice. She told me that yesterday. Maybe she always wanted a daughter, who knows? Anyway, welcome to the family, and thanks for all you did for her.’

Alice protested. ‘It was the other way round. She took me under her wing from the first time I saw her. She settled me into Woodcombe, introduced me to people, especially your cousin Peter. And he has helped me loads with this house I’m renovating. No, it’s me who should be doing the thanking.’ The espresso machine began belching forth a stream of steaming black liquid, a glorious smell of coffee filling the kitchen. Derek rolled his eyes.

‘Oh, yes, that smells so good. Alice, you’re a life saver.’

She placed a cup of coffee in front of him and reached for the biscuits. He waved them away. ‘My wife and my doctor have made me sign the pledge. No cakes, biscuits or pudding. The coffee will do just fine. Followed by about a week in bed.’

He drained the first cup and she was already on her feet, heading towards the machine as he set the empty cup down. ‘Another?’ He nodded. ‘Not worried it’ll keep you awake?’

‘Alice, you could go ahead and have the party of the century next door and it wouldn’t disturb me one iota.’ He watched her as she refilled his cup. ‘So, what do you do with yourself when you aren’t restoring houses?’

She told him about her previous job, her redundancy and her intention to do an MA. She found him very easy to talk to. She told him about the war letters and pointed towards the battered suitcase. He looked very interested.

‘You know, Alice, history is kind of my thing.’

She looked surprised. ‘But I thought you ran a hotel or something. At least,’ she smiled, ‘that’s what the bush telegraph told me.’

‘And the bush telegraph would be right. It’s what used to be a hunting lodge to be precise and it’s in the middle of some of the wildest terrain Canada can offer. We’ve got satellite TV, but there’s precious little else to do apart from hunting and fishing. So I’ve developed an interest in history, particularly the two world wars. I try to read everything I can find about the period from the turn of the century up to 1945.’

‘Fantastic.’ She had a thought. ‘Would you like to read Danny’s letters?’

‘Would I? That would be an honour, a privilege. I look forward to it.’ She finished her mug of tea and saw that his eyes were closing, coffee or no coffee.

‘There’s bread and milk in your fridge. If you need anything else just come and ask. Or bang on the wall!’

He dragged himself to his feet. ‘Thanks for everything, Alice. Now, goodnight.’

As he let himself out of the door, she glanced at the clock. It wasn’t midday yet.

Chapter 29

Alice went down to Beauchamp that afternoon. She had to meet Sharon from the kitchen company who was coming to take measurements for the new kitchen units and appliances. As she drove through the verdant lanes, she listened to the local radio station. They were talking about the upcoming Windsurfing Weekend. An expert was answering questions, phoned in by members of the public. Most of the talk was of board weights, lengths, sail sizes and other technical minutiae that went in one ear and out the other. But, just as she was coming into the outskirts of Beauchamp, her attention was grabbed.

‘And our next caller is Dee. Go ahead and ask your question, Dee.’

‘Um, thank you. Hello, is it true there’s going to be a special race this year? With a lot of the old racers?’

‘Hi, Dee, good to hear from you. Yes, the organisers have surpassed themselves this year. They have assembled a star-studded field of former champions for an exhibition race on Saturday afternoon. All the greatest names of the past decade will be there.’ He went on to name a few names. To Alice’s surprise, he finished with a name she knew well. ‘And don’t forget, arguably the most famous of them all. Klaus Dietrich from Germany and our own Danny Kemp will be going head to head, just like old times.’

Danny Kemp? That’s my Danny.
No sooner had she though it, than Alice found herself wondering just which of the Dannys really was her Danny. And this brought her to Daniel Tremayne. She was nearing Lyndhurst Avenue by now and it occurred to her that she might well see Vicky. Should she say anything to her? She was so caught up with her thoughts, she only just heard the last part of the expert’s answer.

‘My money’s on Danny Kemp. My spies tell me he’s fitter than ever, and aiming for another cup to add to his collection.’

When Alice got to Lyndhurst Avenue she saw that the kitchen people weren’t there yet, so she pulled out her phone and sent a text to Danny in London.

Didn’t know you were so famous. They’ve just been talking about you on local radio. The smart money’s on DK for a win on Saturday. Will mortgage the house and place a huge bet. See you on Friday xxx Alice

Just after she pressed
Send
, a little white van sporting the name “ABC Kitchens” drove up. A girl in a smart business suit and heels climbed out. She was carrying a clipboard. Alice joined her on the pavement and they shook hands.

‘You must be Sharon.’

‘Ms Grant? Good afternoon.’

Together, they went into the house, where Alice was delighted to see that the plaster in the lounge was already drying from dark red to light pink. She followed Sharon into the kitchen, where they discussed what would be the best design to go for. Together, they decided upon a simple gloss white theme. However, there was some discussion about the choice of worktop.

‘Granite is expensive, but it does look good. Tell me, are you planning on selling the house or living in it?’

Alice pulled a face. ‘I’ve been trying to make my mind up about that for weeks. Probably sell it, I think. I’m renting in Woodcombe at the moment and I must admit that I find it a lovely place to live.’

The girl smiled. ‘I’m from Woodcombe. At least, I was. We live in Beauchamp now. It’s easier for me and my partner for work. But Woodcombe’s lovely.’ She pointed at her sketch. ‘If you are thinking of selling, I suggest you go for a cheaper worktop. There are some excellent designs in our collection, and you’ll save yourself up to a couple of thousand pounds.’

Alice nodded. Somehow, the decision about the worktops made her feel better. She now knew where she wanted to live. Woodcombe was the place. While Sharon took the measurements, Alice did a tour of the house to see that all was well.

She walked around the upstairs, noting that the plaster on the new bathroom walls had virtually dried out. She resolved to get back in touch with Mrs Tinker’s decorator, Neil, as soon as she got back to the cottage. He had told her he would need two weeks’ notice. It was now looking pretty definite that by that time, it would all be ready for him. She walked into the back bedroom and glanced outside. As she did so, she just glimpsed Vicky from next door with baby Danny as they disappeared up the back lane for a walk. She felt a sensation of relief. That particular hurdle was postponed, at least for the present.

She looked the other way, but saw no sign of
my friends call me Danny
in his garden. The combination of the conservatory and some judicious planting kept his garden well-shielded. She realised that her date with him was the following night. As she walked downstairs again, she found herself wondering just why she had agreed to an evening with an older man. A considerably older man, even if he was handsome.

The girl from the kitchen shop left and Alice locked up. She returned to the car and found a text from Danny in London.

Bet you didn’t realise you were dining with a veteran on Friday. Hope my false teeth don’t drop out. xxx Danny

As she replaced the phone, Alice realised that this old man thing seemed to be becoming a habit. She wondered idly how old Daniel Tremayne was. Certainly a lot younger than
my friends call me Danny.
The thought of Daniel Tremayne reminded her of her need for a tennis skirt. She seemed to remember a sports shop down by the sea front, so she decided to leave the car in Lyndhurst Avenue and walk down the river to the town centre.

The sports shop did, indeed, exist. Even better, it had a skirt in her size. She made the discovery that modern tennis skirts came complete with shorts attached underneath. This neatly resolved the problem of what underwear to select. Very pleased with her purchase, she walked out into the High Street and bought a sandwich at a little shop, then took it to the sea front and ate it as she perched on the sea wall. The whole area was a hive of activity. They were already putting up flags and bunting, ready for the Windsurfing Weekend. On the beach itself there were a number of tents and marquees in the process of being erected. Curious, she walked down onto the beach to take a closer look.

The main marquee was already being fitted out. A counter had been installed, with the word
Reception
emblazoned across it. Behind it, a stand had been put up, which was being covered with posters by a couple of girls in shorts. Both of them had long hair which was now blonde, whatever colour it had started life as. As she watched, a large poster was unrolled. It showed a handsome young man stripped to the waist, his perfect abs shiny with sweat, as the huge breakers pounded the beach behind him. Alice’s eyes opened wide, her jaw dropped. The man was unmistakably Danny from London.

‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’ The taller of the two girls looked concerned.

‘Oh, no, thank you. I’m fine.’ Alice raised an unsteady hand and pointed at the poster. ‘It’s just that I’m having dinner with him on Friday night, and I am only just beginning to realise who he is.’

The expression on the blondes’ faces said it all.